Interlude to Glory
by The Reborn Akatsuki
Summary: The One Year War races to its close, Zeon is on the defensive after the fall of Solomon and with the Federation throwing everything it has at the final assault on Side Three. What is left of the Zeon military is forced to defend their final asteroid stronghold of A Boaa Qu against impossible odds in the finale to the greatest war in human history. Side story to The Soldier of Zeon


**AN: Ah well here we are for something a little bit different, As sort of a special early treat for Christmas? A new one shot, specifically one relating to the grand finale of the One Year War. This is a one shot sequel of sorts to "Soldier of Zeon" taking place during the events of December 31st 0079. Basically picking up the story from where it stopped in January at the conclusion of Operation "Black Light" and taking it through to the final battle of the One Year War. Note that this will basically be a fairly long one shot as it is designed to tell the story of just what this pilot has been up to throughout the One Year War, and perhaps...beyond it. That said I do hope you enjoy it as this has been a fairly time consuming project, rather then having been devoted to telling a story through numerous chapters as is normal I am instead telling one through a single massive chapter.**

 **This is something I will admit to having worked on while Soldier of Zeon was ongoing just due to the sheer length of it. Trust me in saying that had I waited for the conclusion of Soldier of Zeon, you would have been waiting on this entry for far longer. That said it is not as if this did not undergo periodic corrections and updates, narratives shift and change slightly, the overall vision I wish to portray can change as the story proper does. Originally this was going to be about the length of _Impact_ , instead? It's the size of any three chapters of Soldier of Zeon if not longer.**

 **Of course length in and of itself tells you little of the story I merely wish to explain why this one story is fairly unique in my own catalogue.**

 **Well settle in, get comfy and prepare to see the "Interlude to Glory."**

 **Disclaimer: Happy early Christmas! I still don't own Gundam! Maybe Tomino will gift it to me on Christmas?**

* * *

 **The defensive efforts have failed and the fortress of Solomon lost. The way is clear from Solomon to A Baoa Qu. The Federation are four days from the homeland, five at most.**

 **Prepare the fortress.**

 **-Final message from Second Lieutenant Rodger Cormwell, Zeon Mobile Suit Pilot, Space Attack Force, Solomon Garrison**

 **Classified Zeon Scout Report on the fall of Solomon**

 **December 26th 0079**

* * *

 **December 30th 0079**

 **Space Fortress: A Baoa Qu, Briefing Room 19, Upper Deck,**

 **0700 Hours**

"You're the " _pilots_ " assigned to my detachment huh?" The briefing chamber had been designed back in the time of the peak of Zeon's military might and its size reflected that, it could comfortably hold over a hundred personal within and seat over seventy at the same time in its vast collection of bolted chairs that allowed the occupants to rest comfortably during briefs even in the zero g environment of the fortress. No longer, within the chamber were the nine pilots that had been assigned to his line in the defense field. None of them even looked as if they had made it to twenty years of age yet, all of them looked as he had nearly a decade before. Fresh faced, young, straight out of the Academy, these were the valiant defenders of Side Three? Kids who had been rushed through MS courses and made the cut? Well he supposed he should be thankful he had actually been issued a mobile suit squadron in place of a fighter group or one of those new mobile pod squadrons that were being mass produced at this very fortress. Even rookie pilots at the very least had to qualify to get into a mobile suit, even if the process was as lax as it had ever been due to war losses it still likely had far more challenge then flying a Oggo or Gattle.

His eyes trailed from each of the pilots floating silently in formation, his fingers clenched unconsciously, causing a tremor to echo across the entire limb. The ghost like sensation of numbness intertwining the feeling of pins and needles piercing into his flesh caused his teeth to grit together, even now eleven months later the damage caused his body at Side One plagued him. The doctors had told him even back then that acute digital numbness that was the result of his exposure to the vacuum and shrapnel that had riddled most of his body within the cockpit that would leave him with lasting complications, even so the _Hypoesthesia_ paled in comparison to the _Migraines_ and _Tinnitus_ could occasionally caused him intense bouts of pain that were impossible to manage without medication, even now he felt the twinge of pain behind his left eye at the brightness of the artificial lightning within the room. He'd ignore it, he wouldn't dope in front of the soldiers, even if it was acceptable, even if it marked him as a wounded veteran...it was dishonorable and humiliating.

"Well, as you likely were informed before you were told to report here-we are forming up Assault Squadron 97 of Battle Group Q153 of the Homeland Defensive Fleet 12. We are only one squadron of thirty nine in the battle group, we will be charged with defending a section of N field starting tomorrow at 1500 hours onward." He trailed off as he noted one of the pilots staring downward at his feet, his posture was slumped and defeated. _'Clearly this brat wasn't taught proper etiquette of being in front of a superior officer.'_ His mouth formed a thin line as he pushed off the deck and advanced towards the line of new recruits, this was the problem with drafting for a professional military, he had been trained for more then five years! Do they those people in the ministry of war truly think they can replace all the losses of Solomon in under a week? Even so he wouldn't tolerate this behavior, especially not from those who would be serving under _him_. He wouldn't be humiliated again, having to abandon Solomon as its forces were ripped to shreds had torn at his guts, they had left all those who were trapped aboard the fortress as it fell, its space gate in ruins so the primary methods of escape were denied to them...it was a disgrace. Dozle had bought them all the time they could have to evacuate the survivors of that massacre but even so who knew how many hundreds of soldiers had fallen into the clutches of the Federation.

"You Ensign-Your name." He requested his voice even, but even so his eyes held a edge to them, he was going to establish here and now that regardless of any of these pilots lacking combat experience, their lack of knowledge on proper military protocols, that he was in charge. His promotion may have only been days old but he was now a Captain and he would be treated as such by his men. The boy's head rose and met his gaze only shrink back from his scarred visage, his lip curved upwards by a minute degree.' _You see my face and you are repulsed by it._ ' The thought threatened to cause his thin smile to erupt into a full grin, for all their faults rank amateurs at the very least were honest in expression, Gihren, Delaz, Karn all of them had been put on polite faces, gone about their business ignoring the lingering scars that marked him from his service. Did they think that if they pretended those scars didn't exist he wouldn't be offended or something? They were apart of him now, they marked his transformation from a member of Kycilia's special forces to a commander in the Space Attack Force under admiral Dozle, they marked the passage of his life, the growth and trials.

The end of his time as a special forces operative under Kycilia and the return to being a soldier under Dozle. To his employment as a trainer at the Zum City Academy, the very institution he had been educated at to his eventual deployment to Earth and combating the Federation on its own home soil.

"Franklin Dalca. Sir." The boy spoke earnestly. That was good, he would reply just as frankly.

"Ensign I trust that I can speak to you in all frankness?" He would do so regardless of whatever answer he was given by the former Cadet but his reply would indicate just what sort of mindset he was working with here. That could hopefully allow him to work towards mediating whatever issues that plagued one of his new wingmen.

The kid merely bobbed his head reply.

"Excellent-first off remember that you are now a soldier, you were training to be put into this role. Have the confidence and demeanror that reflects that. Secondly, remember that we have a job to do, Supreme Commander Gihren has all confidence that this battle will go in favor. Believe in your leader, believe in yourself and believe in Zeon." That bog standard patriotism nearly made him want to roll his eyes but it would hopefully instill some measure of confidence into Dalca and perhaps the others. They needed to be believe that this coming fight was winnable, even if all other signs pointed towards that being an impossibility. He believed in Zeon reversing the tide, of overcome what stood before it but...still, the situation was grim.

"Yes sir." The Ensign stated evenly offering him a salute. Returning the gesture he eyed the assembly once more before setting his feet firmly and barking an order in the fashion that these pups would be most familiar with. "You are dismissed, report to hangar block 4 tomorrow at 1100 hours. I want you all prepped and ready for deployment, we fly for Zeon tomorrow, for our Sovereign, for our homeland." He raised his gloved fist upward in the standard fashion to give honor to Zeon before uttering the trademark battle cry of its military. **"Victory: Life or death! Sieg Zeon!"**

At their dismissal his new team had begun the process of filing out of the chamber, all save one.

She stood there awaiting his reply, awaiting his approval, awaiting his notice. He had picked her out from the crowd upon arrival of course despite it being several months since their last meeting and his last tenure at the Academy. He would approach this brusquely, after all she was now a soldier, ready to fight and die for the homeland, the time for coddling, such as it was at the Academy was over. "It's been a while hasn't it kid?" He offered to his former trainee as the newly minted Ensign stood awaiting his approval. Yuuka hadn't changed much in the months since his departure to Earth to join the ever present ground war raging upon it in the aftermath of the death of Garma Zabi.

"Yes sir, since you left things became hectic...and truthfully I would have preferred that you stayed." She offered with just a glimmer of resentment within those charcoal black eyes as they regarded him, well had she come attached to him? That was endearing but also indicative of the potential camaraderie manifesting within her as her time to service grew shorter and shorter. It was a good thing he would argue, to fight someone beyond yourself was something even he struggled for sometimes, it was difficult upon occasion to fight solely for ideals, to struggle for such a abstract concept as a nation, but for individuals? That was something he could envision easily.

Still it would not be the individual that won the day in the battle to come but the Superior race of Zeon, the proud and strong warriors of the Principality, it would be their nation and those who fought for it collectively that led them to glory. All the same though it appeared she had lingering disappointment in his departure, he had informed her beforehand in the wake of Garma's death that his redeployment was going to occur, he figured he owed to his would be prodigy. Her blank face awaited whatever his response would be and after a moment of consideration he offered it.

"Well you already know that story. Got called off my stationary deployment and was sent to Earth, I taught you kids well enough didn't I? However even I didn't think you third years would be sent to the front this soon though but after Odessa and Jaburo...and then Solomon." He just shook his head. They had no choice, at the moment they needed numbers more then they needed experience, the Federation had unleashed a horde of mass production mobile suits in the aftermath of Jaburo that formed a inevitable outcome, a line to their victory if that tide of numbers was not halted.

"We lost a lot of good people on Earth...and now at Solomon." He stated with a sigh as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose, gloved fingers tracing over patchwork scars and unnaturally whitened skin. _'We lost too many at Solomon...far too many.'_ The synthetic leather of his gloves crackled as his hand strained the material as it gripped his face all the tighter.

" _How do you do it_?" Her voice was whisper thin, something tiny and insignificant yet it carried to his ears all the same. " _How can you continue to fight and lose and lose yet more to the Federation? People precious to you? Comrades, friends..._ " She trailed off but even to his light sensitive eyes he picked upon the undercurrent of the conversation. He had briefly gone over her transcripts when she had first been placed under his care, he had studied her dossier and ultimately picked through the vague and relatively uninteresting documentation and came to the conclusion that something had occurred during her youth. Something that had put on the path of a soldier, of a warrior, something that rendered her an orphan in the heart of the newly minted Zeon colony cluster.

He considered that for another moment in silence before coming up with the best answer he could muster.

His hand fell from his face as he turned to face the shorter woman.

"The first, harshest test of leadership is to watch one of your subordinates die in front of you and not let that get to you. I've gone through it, Vice Admiral Dozle went through it, and you'll go through it one day." It was the truth he had been taught all those years before at the Academy, he had seen squadron after squadron of units assigned to him lose people during combat operations. In his first battle of this war he had lost people, his two squad mates still rested in the graveyard of Side Two. In the aftermath of that battle? He had lost many comrades in the following months, in the very colony raid he was famous for throughout the Zeon military he was the sole survivor. Out of a squad of five only he had survived and only then by the thinnest of margins, he was scarred and warped but he was alive.

He had lost comrades on Earth fighting within the jungles of South America and in the defense of their final bastion of power in North America at California base. All throughout this war, he had seen men and women that fought alongside him die and while it still plagued him-it was part of the job. He had buried dozens of comrades, he still remembered them all daily from the stiff and businesslike demeanor of Captain Matais to the battle lusting berserker of Sargent Major Burns. All of them had been individuals, people he had come to know, care for and then have them ripped away by the Federation. The losses hurt but they only fueled his convictions, he'd stand and fight until this war was over and they were finally all avenged.

His own team stood at the forefront of what he owed the Federation. Francis Emre, Greg Poulin, Lenard Drevis, and Lee Roland those four names would be ones he would carry for the reminder of his life within himself. He would fight and fight and fight until he ripped a tidal wave of blood free from the Federation in payment for those lives.

He owed them that, he owed their spirits that...

 _The Soldiers of Zeon would be avenged._

* * *

 **December 30th 0079**

 **Space Fortress: A Baoa Qu, Hangar Bay 15, Mid Deck**

 **Gelgoog Launch Room**

 **0900 Hours**

"Didn't have time to apply my custom colors to it eh?" He stated as he eyed the machine that would be his to pilot during the defense of this final fortress of Zeon. The stark crimson while not as fetching as his custom Zaku had been before the unit was rendered all but inoperable during the final battle he fought on Earth. It however was none the less not a unappealing sight and hopefully he wouldn't be confused for Captain Char on the field-Ridden already gotten enough of that. _'Sorry Red Comet but I am not a fan of sharing the spotlight.'_ Not to mention he didn't want to be associated with one of Kycilia's pets-he had his fill of that during the early days of the war. She was a relatively good commander, tactical and ruthlessly brilliant but she was the reason what had been left of Typhon had died, selling them out for political expediency, labeling their actions 'defiance of military order.' He understood why, he had known going into that mission it could go belly up at any time but for her deny them reinforcements, to leave them to die out there in the vacuum...

He knew the only reason he still drew breath was luck, fighting that battle back in January had taken every ounce of ability he had in his body. Every fraction and facet of his skill and drive. Everything he carried into battle, all his wrath, rage and hate and it still hadn't been enough to secure victory for him. It was a small miracle that the drifting wreckage of his Zaku had even been recovered by the Zeon fleet before they turned about to return to Granada, even then however it was more a matter of him surviving the pitiless embrace of space long enough to reach the Zeon fleet. He was brought aboard the Argus, in what remained of his Zaku all but catatonic, his body barely clinging to life, most of his blood decorating the interior of his cockpit.

None the less he had survived, and at last since the fall of Solomon he would again take to space to face down the Federation. He knew from what scant reports scouting teams and advances forces were funneling their way that the horde that had besieged Solomon was in route. How could they face down what amounted to be three to five times what they had to face it with? He knew Gihren was confident, he knew he thought they could win, would win. Yet how? How would they overcome such a gap in fighting strength? Even if they were now unveiling the newest mass production line of Zeon suit, would that really make up the difference? When most were going to be piloted by raw rookies out of the academy? He had briefly gone over the specs of the machine and while it was indeed perhaps the greatest marvel Zeon had unleashed thus far into the war, it was obvious it was no trainer suit...it had too much power, it was too quick, its movements required a firm and strong hand, it was made for a capable force of veterans...and with Solomon lost, did they even still have that?

 **"Does it please you?"** The familiar tone of command, the air of authority instinctively caused his spine to stiffen to parade standard.

Turning about, right hand already raising, poised to deliver a salute, he came upon the Supreme Commander, dressed in his trade mark military regalia.

"Yes sir." He responded clearly, at Gihren's flank were his usual accompaniment of aides, and staff officers, Mansfield however was noticeably absent from the head of the Zeon military's side. That admittedly struck him as odd, the head of Gihren's personal cadre of bodyguards and military advisers usually traveled along with him, but given the state of the homeland these days...perhaps Mansfield was needed more desperately in Zum City then at A Baoa Qu. "It is from all appearances and technical information, the perfect weapon and perhaps even more capable then the proposed specs of that damned Gundam." He spoke earnestly, as he been told himself, this machine was the first normal type mobile suit to employ beam weaponry for the military of Zeon, no longer would it be restricted to bulky mobile armors, or earth specific variants for amphibious mobile suits.

No, now every suit with the power supply could run a beam weaponry, due to their breakthrough with beam miniaturization technology, any suit could theoretically rival a Gundam, it was the edge they needed to breach in order to firmly regain control of this war. He knew that, he knew that but all the same...could they still do it? He would fight to defend Zeon, he would die to defend Zeon, he would condemn thousands of Feddies to die for Zeon in half the time it took for a single heartbeat but, could they still reverse this? Could they turn the entire war around? After Dozle's death? After Solomon's fall? And if rumor was to be believed, division among the Zabi regarding the state of the war and propositions for peace spreading among it...

"It is a marvel, a wonder weapon and it along with those who pilot it will win us the day tomorrow." He watched as the finely gloved hand of the Supreme Commander gripped tightly into his tasseled and pauldroned shoulder and gave him a winning smile, his perfectly white teeth glaringly bright in the brightly lit hangar. "And you my good Captain of Zeon will prove yourself worthy of the name: _Phantom_ once again." He felt as the grip slackened and with a final pat on the shoulder he saw his leader, his soon to be Sovereign turn about alongside the rest of the admirality that followed along in his retinue and depart the hangar, no doubt to engage in meetings of strategy and to rally the men for the fortress, the men of Side Three for the coming battle.

The heir to the Zabi Throne's final parting words, as it would come to be...the _final_ words he heard from the man at all echoed back to him within his mind.

 **Prove yourself worthy**

He would prove himself worthy of this recognition, he would prove himself worthy of the nation he called home, for the nation he had spilt oceans of blood for.

But above he would prove he was worthy of his continued existence.

* * *

 **December 31st 0079**

 **Space Fortress:** **A Baoa Qu, Battle Group Q153, N Field, stationed aboard Musai Light Cruiser: Tempest**

 **MS-14Jg**

 **1500 Hours**

This was chaos beyond anything those early days of the year could have offered, rather then strafing across the battle lines as he had done throughout January, sinking warships and blowing apart fighter craft now he had to contend with Federation mobile suits as well. Those massive production imitations of the Feddie ' _White Devil_ ' just pissed him off looking at the damn things. How many of his friends, his comrades had died to that abomination? Now there were hundreds of clones of it fighting across the battlefield killing yet more soldiers of Zeon, but the Federation hadn't been the only nation to advance in technology throughout the brutal prior eleven months of the war. His brand spanking new MS-14Jg Gelgoog affectionately known as ' _Jager_ ' by the geniuses back at Zeonic had only just come off the factory floor mere days before, it was one of the dozens of these brand new suits that were being fielded here in the defense of the homeland.

He had been hand selected by Lord Gihren himself, likely at the insistence of Delaz that one of Zeon's most decorated aces could hardly do with using a simple Zaku II no matter how customized or advanced. He had obviously accepted, he'd be a fool to turn down Gihren on matter of principle, but he could never resist the thrill of the newest and greatest when it came to mobile suits, he had never cared for the Dom, the prototype he had flew at Solomon days earlier hardly seemed a improvement to his supped up Zaku that had saw him through battles all across that mud ball of a planet-Earth. The Gelgoog though, the mere thought of the power that thrummed through this reactor made him smile despite the situation. This suit was a thing of perfection, beauty, designed to outperform any suit in the Zeon line preceding it, it was leagues above the Zaku in every way, and it even boasted a more powerful reactor and arsenal then the Dom. Yet despite the awesome power of this suit, despite his own self affirmed skill...he knew that this battle was either going to be the end of Zeon or its crowning monument. Lord Gihren had been correct, the Federation fleets assembled at Solomon had dwarfed anything he could imagine the Feddies fielding this late into the game but...the Colony Laser had wiped away according to reports half of it at the very least, but that still left them to contend with hundreds upon hundreds of these mass produced Gundam's and not to mention the armada that ferried them here.

Zeon's naval might had been shattered at Solomon, the second largest flotilla in the entire navy reduced to flaming scrap metal when the Federation turned the very power of the sun into a weapon. It combusted mobile suits, warships and anything else that it struck, it melted the very walls of Solomon in the cold vacuum of space. Just thinking of that piercing light brought a shudder from his body, and a all too real twinge of fear. Thank all the spirits of Zeon that Gihren had fired the Colony Laser in retaliation, with the loss of so many of their ships, the factory itself and its capabilities to produce mobile suits, they needed every edge they could get. Gihren had been confident, he had rallied them hours before but even so he had this feeling in his stomach that something was horrible wrong with this battle. Despite having the entire home defensive fleet rallied here, the survivors of Solomon, even if rumor was correct reinforcements incoming from Granada...what was this feeling? It was a coldness that had nothing to do with the dark void that surrounded the asteroid fortress.

His eyes stared outward at the slow approach of the Federal ships, even as they were blown apart like cosmic dust as Gihren said that horde was beyond anything he had seen even in the height of Loum and that was by far the largest battle of the war to date...would this even outstrip that massive conflict? Would perhaps this final battle of the war be the grandest of them all? Such a thought made his blood thrum through his veins in almost childlike excitement, he was enjoying testing out this new suit if nothing else yet all the same that glee left him rapidly as the encroaching horde seemingly grew larger and larger with every passing second, here they were at the very edge of the Side Three defensive line, at their final stronghold short of Zum City itself...Already they had beaten back several probes and dreadfully weak attacks, they were unorganized and easily defeated yet they kept coming.

How had it fucking come to this? How? Eight months ago they had occupied nearly seventy percent of Earth, controlled vast provinces and continents...They had the Federation on the run. His victories in those early days, all the Feddies he killed, all the ships he had destroyed, was that to be for nothing? Merely a month ago they were at the bounds of Jaburo itself! Scowling into the interior of his normal suit's sealed and pressurized helmet as the thrusters reached maximum thrust only for him to kill the power in a similar maneuver that he had employed during the frantic escape from Side One all those months ago when he had been one of Kycilia's toys. Killing the thrust allowed his mobile suit to glide through space on pure momentum, allowing him to both conserve the Gelgoog's precious reactor power and fuel not to mention keep his beam machine gun leveled at the next incoming wave of Federation GM's. His camera veered down it's track, at least six incoming GM models, supported by a fighter group. ' _Good no Balls or other support ships, it isn't a organized push just another wave of cannon fodder._ ' Gihren had planned out the battle lines as best he could clearly enough, the various fields that surrounded the Zeon defensive lines all were self contained units that held their own number of troops, warships and support craft. Keying into his squad which was making up a sizable portion of their formation he relied what he had made out through both camera and scope. "Hey kids! Get your dicks out of your damn hands and get ready to fight off another wave, we are holding this damn line until this fucking siege breaks! Got it? This is it! If they bypass us here, they are at Side Three!" His words got the desired effect and the rookies that made up his unit got their shit together and got back into a supportive firing lane designed to lay down as much gunfire, missile barrages and laser bursts as possible. These kids though, straight out of the damn academy, never having seen battle and being tossed into what was possibly shaping up to be the single largest battle of the entire damn war. His unit consisting of six older generation II Zaku abet heavily improved and refurbished units that far outstripped his old C type or even his custom J, a pair of Rick Dom space variants and another Gelgoog such as his own, except it was of the standard factory displacement and not a prototype unit designed with aces in mind, with these nine suits not including his own he was charged with defending this section of the defensive line of their field.

He'd make it work, he had to. "Captain...sir?" One of the recently graduated and now promoted Ensigns broke into his com line and questioned., this wasn't the group or sector hailing frequency though, it was a direct suit to suit link. From the signature it was the other Gelgoog pilot, a kid named something to the effect of _Franklin_. Brow raised he checked his mobile suit's instruments, he didn't detect anything on the scopes, so the Feddies weren't flanking, that squad was still coming towards them though at that same pace, current speed and velocity, they'd be in effective firing range for his and the other rookie's Gelgoogs in the of proximity 90 seconds, perhaps a few more after that for the Dom and Zaku that weren't sporting beam weaponry. "Ensign you know that this channel is for official transmissions only right? They taught you that at the very least as they rushed you through the Academy right?" He growled out with more frustration then actual venom, this kid was probably pissing his pants and wanted reassurance from a veteran, He wanted to be told that they could and would survive this that the vaunted "Scourge of Side One" would make sure he could see his family back in the homeland again. The "Scourge of Side One" his eyes threatened to roll if not for the fact that a distraction such as that could prove fatal mid battle. Still that was the title as the fleet had come to call him after January 31st. As the Federation had declared him to be in official public broadcast after he and his comrades from the now defunct " **Typhon** " team from Zeon's Special Forces division had led a brutal surprise assault upon the Federation's capital in Side One. Unleashing their a wave of death and carnage across the oldest colony in Feddie space, of course that had ended with the destruction of Typhon Team ultimately but they had succeeded in their mission of destroying the designated Federation military facilities within the colony. In the process destroying captured mobile suit materials and experimental research, though in hindsight that mission had done little to nothing save perhaps stalling or slowing down the Federation effort..."Y-Yes Sir, I apologize." Came the stuttered reply, the kid sounded like he was choking back tears, it ripped a little piece of him away to hear that he had such a reaction from a Spacenoid, that he'd say such a thing to a fellow soldier, even if they happened to not even been twenty standard years. Sighing at a little to himself and eye catching his displays watching the meters tick down as the GM's his suit was targeting moved ever closer to his firing line. He spoke never taking his eyes from his instruments even as he replied. "Kid, Ensign-relax, remember what you were taught. Remember that you probably have as if much if not more experience in that cockpit then any Feddie who isn't piloting a Gundam." That was true enough, while some of these Feddies had possibly fought at Solomon, or back on Earth in mobile suits he doubted many had, after all it hadn't been a mass GM attack that won that battle at Solomon, it had been the solar weapon and the damn Gundam. That monstrosity had killed Dozle ripping away his only weeks old child of her father.

One of his oldest friends, a man who had been a icon to him, a role model of how to act the part of a soldier. The Federation had killed Zeon's future with Garma and now they stole it's heart with Dozle. The list of surviving Zabi's seemingly grew shorter every day, whispered rumor that abounded across A Baoa Qu had it that Degwin had bought the farm after he had taken a fleet to meet with the Federation nearly a day ago...during the very attack unleashed by Gihren on the Federation via the Colony Laser. If true then that made the man who ordered such a assault a regicide, but even more then that it made Degwin a traitor to his very nation. He knew that line of thought was treasonous, if Gihren had done that and there was no proof to his knowledge that he had killed Degwin...then his reasoning if the rumors held true was valid in his eye, it was a gut wrenching prospect, having to kill one of your own family, little lone a father for betrayal of not only the family but nation. Yet what else could be done? What had Degwin planned to do? Sell Zeon out on a silver platter to the Feddies so he could keep his throne? The very thought made him feel sick to his stomach, shaking his head clear of those disturbing thoughts he continued the internal count as the meter continued to drop lower and lower in number. "Thank you sir." Came a somewhat more assured replied from his squadmate, he merely gave a slight nod of his Gelgoog's armored head in reply. _'Thirty seconds, twenty five, twenty-come on you Feddie bastards. Let's see if we can't add another page to my memoir.'_

Lord Gihren had said they could win here and he had said that at Side Five and they had despite all the odds stacked against them. Despite mathematic certainty that they'd lose, that the Federation's overt and boisterous military power would carry the day.

Yet even so he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if Gihren Zabi couldn't make a second miracle occur.

* * *

 **December 31st 0079**

 **Space Fortress:** **A Baoa Qu, Battle Group Q153, N Field formerly stationed aboard Musai Light Crusier: Tempest**

 **MS-14Jg**

 **1700 Hours**

Two hours, in two hours this battle had gone from a challenging victory to the very prospect of existing being unlikely. Despite Gihren's brilliance, despite his overarching fields of fire, killzones and entrapments the Federation numbers seemed inexhaustible, for every Federal warship that was sunk another two took its place. For every mobile suit squad that was destroyed another five launched, they were being worn down by sheer attrition just like in those early days. The _Tempest_ , the ship that his mobile suit detachment had been stationed aboard had been lost in a haze of nuclear fire as its enhanced reactors breached and erupted into a fury that consumed the warship and anything around it in a tide of destruction not seen since the first weeks of the war. The loss of that great ship, one of the newer production Musai he feared had been the beginning of the end, despite his squadron having a kill ratio of at least ten Federation suits before one of their own was lost...it mattered little, there were few incoming Zeon replacement ships and the surviving naval vessels in their sector it seemed were ready to either lead a suicidal charge or retreat back to more defensible locations around Side Three. Both options would get them no where, they no longer had the numbers or momentum to inflict any damage on this horde beyond just draining it of viable suits.

Likewise any possible avenue of retreat back to the homeland was denied them, the Federation force had surrounded their position, they'd have to fight to break free and they didn't have the strength or numbers to accomplish that without concentrated effort...effort that would never be authorized, Gihren Zabi believed they could win this battle, he believed that the superior race of Zeon could triumph even here in the darkest hours of their failing empire. Dieter didn't know what to believe any longer, the Federation seemed inexhaustible but that meant nothing, the Solar Ray had burned half the forces of the Feddies away...perhaps if they held out long enough for it to fire again, they could win this battle. He could hope for that at the very least.

Their lines were...for the most part holding, but they were losing men, warships, mobile suits and time. This battle was like nothing he had seen since those early days of combat, during the fierce naval battles between Gwazine and Musai against Salamis and Magellan. His fingers went into the radio as he switched the toggle downward, his suit couldn't penetrate but a few hundred meters past his own sector due to the heavy concentration of particles, debris and wreckage but even so he wanted to hear the news of the battle in other sectors. Scrambled commlines revealed the chaos of the battle, the frantic curses and cries of Zeon pilots as they fought onward in this battle, the sounds of battle as mobile suits, ships and fighters were consumed and left to drift this endless void as wreckage. Yet beyond that, he heard a familiar voice within the chaos. "This is Captain Alden of the Tivvay: _Adamant_! We have suffered heavy damage repulsing the enemy, I am having all hands abandon ship, our reactors are in the critical-we require support, I rep-" He let his hand drop from the dial as his eyes refocused upon scanning the battle lines. "The Federation will pay for this." He ground out teeth clenched in a fearsome snarl, he wouldn't listen to yet another comrade, one he had served with personally as well, perish...not again, He could only hope that Captain Alden would meet his end well or-if perhaps a bit more unlikely, receive the aid he sought. "I shall see you in Valhalla brother." The prospect of a warrior paradise always brought a sense of comfort, it was hard to believe in this age of technology and 'understanding' how belief in anything other then your fellow humans could endure but it did...surprisingly. His father had been a man of 'God', before such things were shunned in Zeon, before Zeon was even Zeon. Yet even so the prospect of beseeching the aid of a absent father of humanity to strike down the Federation as they sought to obliterate everything he had ever loved or wanted to protect, seemed rather pointless to him.

He'd have to settle for just killing the Feddies himself.

If they could outlast the tide then perhaps victory could be salvaged from the colossal fuck up this battle had become. Aiming his arm mounted machine cannon's in the direction of another Federation Ball unit he unleashed a hail of cannon rounds that tore through the metal frame of the craft and left it leaking flame before its fusion reactor erupted in a firestorm. "Feddie Trash!" He taunted as he hit the right thruster toggle and pushed it upwards to top speed, bringing the Gelgoog screaming into another strafing run across the field. His accuracy wasn't perfect even with the near pinpoint targeting provided by his Jager's head mounted vulcan cannon's none the less the twin streams of fire ripped apart two GM's that were trying to break away from the Zeon lines. Despite the dire nature of the situation, despite the apparent doom that rallied around them as the Federation sought to crush the very heart of the Spacenoid homeland in their grip he was in his element here. His squad had been reduced to only two active suits, Ensigns Vitor in his Dom and Yuuka within the sole surviving Zaku II the rest had either retreated for repairs to be done to their suits or were dead, "Vitor, Yuuka you two newbies still breathing?" He laughed out in a grim cackle as he raised his beam weapon upwards once again his left eye trailing towards its assorted amount of shots before it would need to be charged, the number wasn't encouraging but it was still enough in his eye to destroy at least another half dozen knock off Gundam's.

The Federation was unleashing everything they had here in this final gambit to crush the last bit of resistance on the way to the Zeon homeland. They were deploying anything and everything they had for this operation they had labeled- **Star One** , from battleships and cruisers, to mass production mobile suits, to space pods and fighter craft. Thankfully, so was Zeon. A squadron of Oggo's led into battle by a metallic gun metal gray Zaku charged into the enemy lines, breaching them right into a swarm of Ball space pods. The flamboyant sigil of the _'Ace Corps'_ emblazoned upon its armored flank. Explosions erupted in the darkness of space, A Baoa Qu located as it was behind the dark side of the moon deep space was shrouded in darkness for the most making even the most minute of explosions akin to a flare being shot up, the flashes of light illuminated the battle between the Zaku and Oggo against the Balls. The Balls had the squadron outnumbered, but the Zaku and its support craft had attacked with surprise and fury, even as several of the Oggo were destroyed the Balls were sent into retreat fleeing from their own lines.

Witnessing that small battle take place and end in the pace of dozens of seconds brought him some small modicum of hope. If Zeon could defeat the Federation attack forces individually, they could win this battle, and if they won this battle...they could win this war. It was their only chance, his only chance. His camera slid down its track focusing upon the surviving Rick Dom and Zaku who were firing into the incoming wave of Federation ships and suits with abandon. Rapid rocket fire in combination with bursts of automatic machine gun fire tore apart the GM squadron forcing into to retreat. _'Seems my little new bloods aren't going to stay newbies for long.'_ He thought with a grin even as he toggled his comm array. "Form up back into position and await command to engage, we need to keep a eye on the support fleet while we have a window to do so...make sure to conserve ammunition and watch your sensors." Due to the particle density most of his own suit's radar array were worthless beyond a few hundred meters at most but even that was some minor aid.

* * *

 **December 31st 0079**

 **Space Fortress:** **A Baoa Qu, Battle Group Q153, N Field formerly stationed aboard Musai Light Crusier: Tempest**

 **1900 Hours**

 **MS-14Jg**

His Gelgoog was running on fumes, his suit only had enough charge for another three bursts from his beam machine gun before it was reduced to just to a overly expensive hunk of worthless scrap. He'd still have access to its assortment of beam weaponry, arm machine cannons and what was left in the point defense head vulcans but he needed a vessel to rearm himself, that'd be the problem here though. The Federation was still pressing and any ship he risked docking upon was a ship that could suddenly be destroyed as the enemy pushed again and again into their lines. Why wouldn't they just submit? How many hundreds of the Federation had to die trying to breach their lines today? "How many of you bastards do I need to kill?!" He screamed outward, his suit to suit direct link communication array broadcasting it on the open channel that could be used between Federation and Zeon forces to exchange taunts, offers of surrender or final curses. His target computer chimed before the lock went red and the familiar whine of the targeting computer confirming lock-he held the firing stud downward as he unloaded upwards of twenty three beam shots out of the barrel of his glowing machine gun into a line of Federation Salamis warships. One of which, in particular was his target, it was unique because it still held suits. The Salamis that had yet to offload their GM's turned to port, its main guns already preparing to fire on him but this wasn't Side One where he could be pegged by a lucky Feddie shot to the chest, bringing up his suit's rear leg thrusters the Gelgoog casually avoiding the barrage climbing upward into the vacuum, swerving left to avoid the remnants of a destroyed Gobble Fighter, his eye caught the feed from the rear camera. The defenseless machines erupted into a field of flame as the beam rounds tore into them, melting through armored plate and into the pilots within. Of the five GM's stationed aboard that vessel not a one survived, that marked his GM count to twenty three, a good score he supposed but just how long was he supposed to hold the Federation back in this sector with just two kids?

"Captain! There at our right flank!" The scream of shock from the Ensign woke him from contemplation just as the warning klaxons within the Gelgoog began screaming beam discharge warnings, right eye scanning the instruments he saw it mere seconds before it appeared before the sight of his main camera, breaching through the N field and cutting ribbons through their force was the **White Devil** itself. He felt his stomach coil inward within his normal suit, his numbed left hand suddenly jolting upon his throttle bringing him back to reality, staring into those empty pits that served as eyes he saw the fires of Gehenna flash beneath the monitor banks of its camera. Not even ten thousand meters stood him and the Federation abomination, the bane of Zeon, the machine that had killed as many Zeon pilots as the Odessa Day offensive. The **Gundam** , within its hand was the beam rifle that had ended so many pilot's life as it lined shots and unleashed a hail of bolts that ripped through the four Zaku before they could even bring up their 120mm machine guns. "That pilot's reflexes are inhuman..." He trailed off, his beam machine gun's charge meter now read empty, he had probably under a hour of flight time left in the Gelgoog even if he flew conservatively despite the power of his 1490 KW reactor which was the staple of the new Gelgoog line and nearly doubly more powerful then the one in the old Zaku II he had flown throughout the war. Letting out a held breath he eyed the Federation machine as it traded fire with another patrol of Dom's and Zaku's, that machine was here, the suit that no Zeon pilot not even the famed Red Comet could destroy. Maybe if he had encountered this suit three hours ago he could have fought it evenly, but his reflexes were growing sluggish, his machine was running on little more then its last legs and most of his ammunition was drained from destroying upwards of twenty mass production GM's. "A little over fifteen hundred vulcan rounds, and about sixty machine cannon rounds in the left arm..." Not anywhere near enough if half the stories about that machine were true, that thing could shrug off continued fire from the Zaku 120mm like it was nothing. The Gundam continued its spree of carnage and violence dispatching the assault force of Zaku and Doms in under a period of two minutes, he had never moved to come to their aid...he had simply watched as more sons and daughters of Zeon died, the Gundam's thrusters pushed it further into their field and it seemed that it wouldn't stop until it had cut through their lines and reached the fortress itself before he lost sight in a sea of more explosions as more suits broke from formation to intercept it only to fall to it. _'We can't stop that thing.'_

That thought rang out through his head repeatedly, he could try, he might even damage it even with the limited weaponry he had access to, but he had seen the way the machine moved, how easily it banked and turned, the effectiveness of its weapons, even from such a minute analysis he could make out that even while his Gelgoog seemed to carry some edge in speed without dedicated heavy firepower to incapacitate the suit inside the first volley he likely wouldn't get off a second. "Pack it in kiddies we are pulling back to the second field at mark 2.79, got it? Hopefully we can find a ship that still has space and technicians free...otherwise we have to pull back to the fortress itself." He didn't mention that would lead to all sorts of complications, he likely didn't need to. He'd fight to defend the Principality of Zeon to his dying breath but that didn't mean that some of the more radical elements within the military wouldn't look at a withdrawal as cowardice. "Sir we were ordered to maintain position until relief forces arrived!" Yuuka was the one who protested, and evident once more present was the sheer revelry she had expressed earlier at facing the Feddie horde that had captured Solomon, clearly she had no desire to flee the field.

His machine descending to the field of space that surrounded his two assigned squadmates, around them floated the wreckage of Federation and Zeon, friend and foe. His Gelgoog turned to face the Zaku pilot. They didn't have time for this! Scowling within his helmet he hit the transmit button for direct suit to suit communication. "Listen Ensign, we aren't deserting! We are rearming, this field isn't going to hold another hour even if we die defending it..." ' _The fucking Gundam ensured that by wiping half of its surviving defenders out inside of five minutes..._ ' As if to make his point one of the Musai that had been firing a seemingly endless tide of energy into the oncoming Federal warships that made up their incoming line was struck repeatedly by GM beam rifle fire from a squad that apparently had followed the trail of destruction that the Gundam had undoubtedly caused cutting through N field. The mass production beam rifle shots punctured armored hull plate and led to a cascade of explosions expanding across the hull that ultimately resulted in the vessel imploding into a sea of onrushing energy and debris. "If we stay out here, running low on ammunition and energy what do you think will happen? Do you think Lord Gihren wants you to die worthlessly? We are out here to defend our home! Not to seek fucking suicide...if you want to do that then go fucking charge their lines, you'd be wasting a Zaku but at the very least you'd get the 'honorable' death you apparently crave." He heard no argument, so he assumed he had her assent, even if he didn't...he'd leave her behind, they had no time left. This battle depended upon them achieving victory, if they fell here Side Three would be under siege before January 1st. Not to mention that this was a active combat zone, and thus this was no place to have a heated debate amid encroaching enemies. "Now-Fucking pull back." As he disengaged from the N field's first outer ring of defenses his two surviving squad members trailing behind him, he felt in his gut that this battle wouldn't end for a while longer yet. The Federation may have been breaching their outer lines but they still had hundreds of suits in reserve at the inner lines, and not to mention those stationed within the perimeter of the fortress itself.

Still though that sense of nagging disquiet plagued him, the Federation was advancing but it was costing them suits for every meter that they took from Zeon. What could it be? What could this feeling be? His instinct honed by battle rarely led him astray and it had continued to tell him throughout the battle that something about the entire situation just stank of wrong. ' _Maybe its just the thought of everyone you know back in Side Three being reduced to ashes at the hand of that solar weapon..._ '

"Sir we have incoming friendly vessels at point .95" Vitor interrupted his thoughts, none the less he keyed in the camera sequence and forced it to zoom outward as far as it was capable...at first he saw nothing in the hazy static of the camera feed and he was going to request that Vitor take a still and transfer it to his machine but before he could even requested it, the static gave away to hazy debris field imagery as the outline of four Musai pushed through the darkness of space, alight with the wash of colors reflected off their dull green hulls. Followed by the cruisers was something that took him aback one of the massive Gwazine battleships sailed silently through the void of space. Yet more vessels came through his camera's sight, in total he saw three Chivvay heavy cruisers, one Gwazine battleship, nine Musai of varying make and what appeared to be some sort of unmarked freighter craft. However the lead Chivvay bore the familiar sigil of the royal family, the crest of Deikun adorned with a crown. "I'll be damned, she actually did come." He felt his lip curve into a thin smile despite himself, at the very least they'd have additional friendly forces, no matter the source they needed more soldiers and suits then they had.

Still did the source have to be Kycilia?

* * *

 **December 31st 0079**

 **Space Fortress, A Baoa Qu, Battle Group Q153, S Field, refitting bay sixteen**

 **Dolos Super Carrier: Dolowa**

 **2000 Hours**

 **MS-14Jg**

The technicians had just finished rearming and restocking his Gelgoog but given the intensity of this battle, stumbling upon the Dolowa had truly been a stroke of fortune. The massive carrier had munitions and techies to spare, and thankfully due to the ferocity of the battle, there wasn't much of a waiting time. All the same though the handful of minutes that he got to be free of his mobile suit, to drink water that wasn't the same temperature as his cockpit, to allow himself the freedom of actually having a breath that wasn't filtered through his helmet.

It was glorious, as he wiped the sweat from his brow with a gloved hand he noted the dispassionate gaze the young female Ensign was sending his way, sighing at the conversation that was to come he brought his hand down and began before she could unleash whatever tangent she had prepared for him.

"Yuuka, I know you are eager to prove yourself but you have already downed three GM's personally and assisted our squadron in destroying at least another eighteen...you have nothing left to prove." He smiled even as he inwardly battled against a sudden spasm within his left arm that left the muscle tense and coiled radiating pain. Through clenched teeth he however continued onward, he would say his piece to his student...would could quite possibly be his final student. "You are still young and as we have witnessed today, this war isn't going to end any time soon just remember you need to surv-" He was caught as the massive hangar block within the interior of the great Dolos carrier shuddered under repeat impacts.

He knew this sensation, the ship was being struck.

Likely either conventional shells or missiles given that no heated bursts of energy were boiling their way through the armored bulkheads.

 _'Impossible...How have they could this far?'_

No, this was impossible there was no way that the Federation had penetrated this far into their lines already, not S Field, they had a legion of veteran pilots stationed here. Captain Delaz himself along with the reserves from Solomon...yet all the same it appeared that the Federation had managed to reach them, the thick armor of the bulkheads groaned inward as the hangar started to tilt, he eyed his fellow pilot before gripping a-hold of his Gelgoog's fast ascent rope to the cockpit. "Yuuka return to your mobile suit, try to get out...with only two catapults it may be difficult but survive." His command was firm even as he hit the release as lights flickered across the hangar as power shorted out. The rope groaned as it rapidly carried his bulk upward to the already opened cockpit of his machine, he had hoped that they would have been given more time to prepare as it was, the E-Cap for his beam machine gun had been replaced and he had been given one of the rare few spares, giving him upward of another two hundred charges, along with a full restock of propellant but he had just been fighting onward for roughly five hours.

Off and on to be sure, but he was feeling it. He watched as Yuuka scampered back to her own new mobile Zaku before clicking herself into the fast ascent rope and hauling herself upward, he couldn't do anything for her here, she would have to survive on her own. As the floor beneath his suit's feet sunk inward and the hangar began to depressurize, he hoped she would survive, would endure this. If she fell here, The Federation owed him another life and they had already taken far too many. His personal attachment may have been tempered by prospects of vengeance but he did hope she would survive, he had taught her as best he could, and she had proven today that she was in fact capable, give her a few years of experience and she would likely surpass him...in raw talent and natural affinity with a mobile suit anyway.

Lighting flickered and reactivated across the massive vessel as it began to tilt, crushing under his breath he only hesitated his suit's activation sequence and began marching it towards the catapult, thankfully the vessel seemed to be holding together well so far.

He would discover what had gone wrong, what had caused perhaps the most stable and strong of the Fields to fold like this and allow the destruction of this vessel, the Dolowa was doomed, he already knew it from the way the ship was beginning to vent and crumple under the weight of repeat impacts and its own failing structural integrity. The mightiest vessel of Zeon, the largest warship ever constructed, a carrier capable of ferrying an army alone...and it was to die within spitting distance of A Baoa Qu.

 _'Someone is going to die for this.'_ That thought resounded through his skull as the Rick Dom before him launched via the catapult the process was taking far too long on a ship now undoubtedly veering nearly 90 degrees, but he wouldn't break formation until the ship really started to go, but at the first sign of a reactor breach and he'd blow a damn hole in the ship himself, he would not be brought down by a faulty design standard of only installing two launch platforms on a ship so large. He tried to spot Yuuka across the chaos of the hangar but she had no joined this line neither had Vitor, but he knew they'd survive, at the least Yuuka would...that kid had a destiny, that much was obvious to him, she wouldn't die, no matter how bad this battle got, he knew she wouldn't die. As his own Gelgoog loaded itself into the launcher, as the ship groaned and lurched under repeat impacts and failing hull, he sped across the launch track before being jetted out into the vacuum.

Staring backwards at the doomed vessel was heart rending, the behemoth was crumpling and burning in equal measure, its bridge had been cleaved off by mega particle fire and undoubtedly was being continually shelled with anti ship missile fire, the Feddies were no doubt having the time of their lives trying to bring the Zeon juggernaut down, but he couldn't spare the time to deal with them not, now he had to get a grasp of the situation in the Field and hopefully see if some sort of counter offensive couldn't be organized to drive back the Federation, **Supreme Commander** Gihren, **Sovereign** Gihren...would tolerate no failure on his part, and he would deliver none.

"To all surviving Zeon forces in S Field we are mounting a counter attack! We have to drive them back!" His message transmitted across the Zeon held space. How they would accomplish this however...even he didn't know, they were losing so many pilots, so many suits so quickly...to think that some had at the start of this war called the Zaku invincible! Here they were outmanned and outnumbered and being pushed back to the very bounds of the fortress itself. He supposed he should be thankful that at the very least the techs on the carrier had been given the few minutes it had taken to refit his unit for continued operation, but even so...how many others would be left without a place to rearm or refuel now? How many guns would run dry soon fighting off the Federation? Losing that carrier could have just lost them the field, yet if they rallied soon enough...

As he watched the Dolos's final moments he felt his hopes for this battle burn away with it in nuclear haze.

* * *

 **December 31st 0079**

 **Space Fortress: A Baoa Qu, M Field, Bridge of the** **Wismar**

 **Musai Light Crusier**

 **2300 Hours**

 **The fortress was under siege.** A Baoa Qu, the seat of Zeon's last defense, the final base outside of the homeland, the principle component to their plan to stave off the Federation invasion-Code named: **Star One.** Explosions were visible even here, thousands upon thousands of kilometers away, the fortress was bathed in the ethereal glow of beam weapons cutting into, ripping apart its defenders, even so the fortress continued to return fire. Implanted batteries and mobile suits traded fire with encroaching warships, massed squads of GM's charged against the last frantic defenses of the base, its fall seemed imminent now.

Further more, and even more distressing to him was the message that was being broadcasted repeatedly from the fortress.

"This is impossible..." He trailed off at the announcement that was repeating overall all open Zeon military channels. His gloved finger clenching within the sealed gloves of his normal suit, yet he was no fool. Mere hours ago, their lines had been holding-they were outlasting the pathetic last wave of the Federation assault and then as suddenly as she had arrived upon the battlefield Kycilia was in command, the general announcement to their forces had been met with mixed reaction. He himself could hardly breath as the transmission repeated that Kycilia was now in charge of the defense of A Baoa Qu-' _So the line of Zabi's is reduced to that murdering witch and an infant..._ ' Gihren Zabi the Supreme Commander of the military he had sworn himself to, undoubtedly was dead. The Leader of his nation, the true Sovereign of Side Three, the man he had sworn loyalty to, the man he had grown to respect over the months he had served under him directly. Yet even so, even as he heard reports of Delaz going rogue, breaking formation and leaving the sector. Dozens of mobile suits, several warships, including his Flagship were last seen retreating away from A Baoa Qu, off towards who knew where, but that had weakened their presence in S-Field with the removal of a entire fleet and their lines were crumbling. Delaz had one of the few fleets comprised mainly of veterans fielding the cutting edge of the Principality, the survivors of Solomon, all in all his fleet make up was in truth two if one considered the remnants of the Solomon fleet that had been placed under him after the battle on the 24th. Why had Delaz fled? The man would presumably fight to the very death if ordered to by Gi-and then he understood, in the end it had not been cowardice that drove him but the betrayal of Kycilia herself, a betrayal that even he who had served under her had never seen coming. Although this did explain that sense of nagging dread that he had felt throughout the battle. Yet even so all of that paled in comparison to what he now heard-"Play it again." He growled out his scarred face twisting into a glaring visage, his eyes all but slits and nostrils flared.

The Captain-a young woman who apparently had been promoted in the aftermath of Solomon-' _Just like me._ ' Merely glared at him from the command chair, her pointed and elegant features that mildly struck him as similar to the Indo-European blending that was common among the inter colonies of Side Three contorting into a scowl as the message was once again played. She couldn't order him to desist, after all they were of the same rank, and the regulations that would give her authority over him no longer applied it seemed...none the less the technician working the bank of monitors that made up the com array complied and the last transmitted message from A Baoa Qu played once again. "This is Brigadier General Twanning...of the Space Fortress A Baoa Qu, the Rear Admiral-Lady Kycilia has fallen valiantly in battle, to all forces of Zeon with the line of succession now dead we must turn to the next highest authority in Zeon, we are now under the command of the Prime Minister Bakharov. Minister Bakharov has since ordered **all** forces to stand down and surrender, I repeat all forces of the Principality of Zeon... **stand down and surrender** , official terms will be issued later when the Minister meets with officials from the Federation." His eyes which had been fixated upon the radio display turned towards the distant fortress-there were only a few tens of thousands of kilometers between them and A Baoa Qu and yet the space outside of had become a graveyard, uncountable lives were lost today...even so he wouldn't let it end on that note. He would not let his career end this way, he was already a wanted war criminal in Federation space, undoubtedly if the Principality of Zeon surrendered he'd be turned over the Feddies...no he wouldn't let his life be spent in a Federal prison or be made a mockery of by being executed by them.

Captain Claudelle merely gazed evenly at him from his seated position, it was evident that she was content to allow this ceasefire to go into effect, either to spare herself or her crew from future, now utterly pointless fighting. He could understand her decision, understand her wish to see the fighting simply stop but he couldn't respect it. Not in the least. The mere prospect of the Federation actually _winning_ this war clouded his vision red.

"Well Captain _Kreis_ Satisfied? Now are you going to follow orders and stand down?" How dare she ask him that, how dare she be so willing to surrender after all the thousands of their comrades that had undoubtedly died today corpses were still fresh! Even now the flashes and explosions of battle were visible from the other fields! Were they to surrender while the Federation seemed to content to kill them all?! He stilled his emotions, his pained grimace shifting neutrally, it wouldn't do to take out his rage upon his brothers and sisters in arms...even so what was he to do now? She did bring up a valid point however the manner, they were given orders-from a superior speaking for the new head of state. Undoubtedly Captain Claudelle would under normal circumstances follow, she was clearly not a hardliner like Delaz, men such as him would never let the ideals of those like Gihren Zabi die. Unfortunately he would have to make do with his substandard replacement."No." He responded grimly his mouth set in a pensive line, he would have never done this under any other circumstance, that was how he rationalized it internally, his hand went to the belt of his normal suit and came back up in practiced ease-the barrel of his ZM08 handgun pointed squarely at the Captain's forehead. The sheen of the well polished metal of the barrel shined in the artificial lighting, the plain looking handgun unique only in that it bore the sigil of Deikun engraved upon the metallic paneling of the butt. To his eye a substandard replacement for his customized pistol that he had lost the aftermath of the raid on Side One but none the less a precious gift. "Have my Gelgoog prepared for launch and turn away from the Fortress, set course for E-Field, if transmissions were accurate a hour ago...a Fleet escaping to Side Three is passing through it now on its way to S, its the one field that hasn't fallen completely to the enemy yet. Its not secured by a cordon, its our path to escape or rather...mine." He doubted the Wismar held any fugitives in Feddie space, they'd be fine, they could surrender to the Federation assuming the bastards let them. He couldn't and he wouldn't...

"You sniveling little bastard! Are you seriously hijacking a warship of Zeon to save yourself?!" She screamed, her eyes narrowed in outright rage. She had him half right, he would force a crew of the Principality to do their duty, but this had nothing to do with saving himself...the Principality was dying, this was its final hours...as crushing a thought as it was, it was the truth. He knew not what the Federation would do to Side Three, he feared for his family there but there was nothing he could do, this Feddie horde had bested them, it had cost them dearly and taken hour after hour but they were defeated. Now the less, he'd give his fellow sister in arms a chance, he'd repeat his request."Have my Gelgoog prepared to launch and set course for E-Field, give the order Captain or I cannot promise that you will not be harmed." They had no time left, he didn't want to kill a comrade but he be damned if he wouldn't in this instance, adjusting his aim a few centimeters to the left he fired. The gunshot rang out in the bridge, the bullet striking the metal of the wall behind the Captain's seat with a sharp thud causing the assembled bridge crew to recoil and flinch away at their stations. The semi automatic action already feeding another 9x19 cartridge into the chamber as the spent shell floated away away from the ejection port in the zero g. "Last chance, order it or I will." He didn't have anymore time for this, every minute wasted was a minute closer to the time when the potential escape from A Baoa Qu was closed to him, or any forces for that matter that wouldn't submit to the travesty of this defeat.

"You want to surrender and hope the Feddies won't kill you? Be my damn guest, but I am not going to accept this." He wouldn't, he couldn't accept this outcome, not only for the fact it would mean the end of his own life one way or another but because the dream of Zeon had to be accomplished. Side Three had struggled for a decade to win this war, and now it seemed that effort had been in vain...he wouldn't accept it. His iron grip on the butt of his handgun tightened, they had maybe another five minutes before what was left of the defensive lines around M's inner perimeter collapsed either due to mass surrender or another Federation assault. Even now in the background the assault of the inner fortress continued, explosions erupted off of the massive asteroid base, dozens of GM mass production models had broken through the N-field not to mention the damn Gundam cutting through S-field earlier in the battle, he could only hope that M field would hold out for a few minutes more while his Gelgoog was prepared for launch.

Her gaze met his own, his conviction was laid plain, he'd fight for the Principality, for what it stood until death. In her he saw the same weakness in that of the recruits that had been assigned to his unit during the defense of A Baoa Qu, she was afraid of death. Her own life mattered to her more then her oath, the Principality was just a government to her, the ideals and beliefs of Side Three meant nothing to her. All that stood between them was belief and the small handgun that was pointed squarely at her forehead. "Helm set course for E-Field, full thrust. Tell our escorts to cover our flanks, we need to reach it in a hurry." He merely gave a minute nod of the head but the pistol was never lowered, he wouldn't go back on his word, but nor would he give up his position until both demands were met. Fully relenting she keyed the comm array within the command chair she scowled out. "Engineering have Captain Kreis's Gelgoog prepared for immediate launch, full refit." A flash of victory graced the man's eyes as he lowered his pistol, the fact of the matter was, who was she to stand in his way? If she would not carry out her duty to the homeland then she had no right to stand in the way of someone who would. "What are you even planning?" Claudelle seemed to sigh out in finality leaning heavily back into the chair.

"Granada." He murmured out as he spun on the heels of his feet away from the Captain, she could go back on her word but what would that accomplishment? In truth this battle was already lost, it only mattered now that those who would continue to fight did so, and those who wouldn't go out of their way. In Granada there was still the Zeon base that hadn't fallen, this war wasn't over yet. The Moon had been bypassed in order to attack A Baoa Qu, the garrison there likely was still at stations, if he could arrive soon enough he may even be able to take part in the defense of the final Zeon outpost in space. As he stood before the forward bridge viewport, handgun still in hand, he eyed the collection of warships that made up E-Field's retreating fleet, even from this distance he could see that much of the bulk of that field's defenders were likely going to be able to escape to Side Three...though for what purpose? Did they truly believe the Federation would launch a invasion of Side Three? No, this was where the spirit of Zeon had been quashed, this would be the end of it, at least for this war unless if Granada was besieged to root out Admiral Karn and his forces.

The future though would be born upon Granada, it was to his knowledge the only Lunar city that Zeon still occupied, and likely would at least for some time, making it a good rallying point for a new counter offensive...this defeat would not be the end of them, it couldn't be. "Granada? Why?! There's nothing there besides some of Kycilia's old research bases, and resupply stations back when we had a fleet..." The Captain seemed more confused then anything. Clearly she had not been part of the task force to ensure that the child and wife of Admiral Dozle had been allowed escape from the Federation at Solomon, that was the source of her ignorance. "Kycilia's fleet didn't make up the bulk of its defenses, Admiral Karn's force was notability absent, Zeon still has strength there." He pondered for a moment whether or not he should reveal the other reason why he'd make for the Lunar Bases at Granada, ultimately deciding it didn't matter either way."Also our new Sovereign is there. Escaping isn't my purpose here, I have to protect... _Princess_ Mineva."He answered grimly, as much as he'd prefer the miracle of Supreme Commander Gihren rising from the dead he doubted Kycilia had left anything to chance with his assassination.

That bitch had been many things, most of them negative but she was through.

"Sovereign? Princess?! Admiral Dozle's kid?" She exclaimed, it wasn't surprising. He too found it troubling that all their hopes were tied to the symbol of the Zabi bloodline continuing through that small girl's life, none the less she was the last Zabi. By rights she was now heir to the throne of Zeon, his Supreme Commander, his Sovereign.

The final Zabi...his sworn liege, a girl who wasn't even a year old...none the less it was his duty to ensure he did everything he could to allow that she sit upon the throne of Side Three or die trying. "Mineva Zabi will sit upon her grandfather's throne...regardless of what that message said: there still is a viable line of succession, and it all begins with Granada." He was done talking, this Captain could play the part of a repentant soldier, a defeated foe to the Federation...he wouldn't.

Mineva Zabi was his final hope for the future.

* * *

 **January 1st 0080**

 **Space Fortress: A Baoa Qu, E Field**

 **2400 Hours**

 **MS-14Jg**

"That mobile armor is impressive..." Even from across the field he could see the beast of a machine through his main camera firing off mega particle cannon shots that would be more common place from battleships, it was drawing attention away from the fleet, after a few moments of inquiry he got his answer as to who was piloting it and acting in support of it. "603 Technical Evaluation Unit..." A bunch of engineers and brats were showing up the Federation? He let out a chortle of laughter at the very notion, none the less he knew that the chances of that unit surviving this rearguard action were minimal. His Gelgoog fired forth a green signal flare from its right shoulder vent, the rocket shot upward hundreds of meters before detonating in a plume of cascading green light that burned brightly for upwards of ten seconds before fading. That would indicate to any nearby Zeonic forces that this field had yet to fall, there was still a defensive action ongoing here, hopefully that would be mildly inspiring if nothing else and possibly result in him not having to go into battle alone.

He was used to fighting by himself though in the aftermath of _Black Light_ he had been all that was left of Typhon and even with that Kycilia was not content, the unit was officially disbanded and he was all but kicked out of the Mobile Attack Force. She cited his actions at Colony 13 and the raid on Side One itself, calling him a war criminal, a psychopath, a mass murder. He scowled at the memories of his disgrace, he wasn't even fit for military service after that botched mission and she had the gall to disavow them? Shaking his head clear of the bitterness and memories, that grudge was old and now Kycilia was dead and he should have been free of it...but he wasn't.

The flames of his rage were not so easily extinguished, their embers burnt at his innards and even when all the other involved parties were dead, the anger wouldn't dissipate. Anger at himself, at Kycilia, at the Federation, at his squad, it was as consuming as it was encompassing.

He wondered if Kycilia ever visited the graves in Zum City that marked the final resting place of Typhon? A collection of empty plots, their remains lost in battle at distant Sides, yet even if they were vacant coffins, all the same it was the place he visited seemingly every week when he had finally been recalled back to Side Three in the aftermath of his recovery. It didn't matter if Drevis and Poulin were likely cosmic dust, Roland and Emre's remains were likely cremated in some dingy warehouse in Side One, no this was where their spirits rested, alongside the many thousands that decorated the military cemetery for the Principality. This war had costed this so much, so many people lost for the right to self rule, to cast down the Federation, to free humanity from the corrupt elite that sought to rule them all...

And it seemed it had all been for nothing, all the loss and sacrifice, all the destruction and death.

It all lead them to this moment, to this defeat.

* * *

"This is everyone that's left then?" He addressed the force that had taken up his flank, there had been hundreds upon hundreds of suits fielded in the defense of this fortress hours before but now he had less then two dozen registering within his scope. There could be more survivors obviously, those who were still fighting in the other fields, or even within the fortress itself but for all intents in purposes the nineteen suits including his own remaining within this sector of E-Field would have to suffice. "The fleet departing E-Field is going to be out of this sector within thirty minutes, we have to ensure that no Federation forces interfere with their escape...our goal here is just to buy as much time as possible. I won't lie-there is a good chance that no one here is going to be alive tomorrow." He let silence leak into the comm line after that, he heard nothing in reply except a few grim chuckles or intakes of breath. "To all the new bloods, to my fellow veterans and officers...May the spirit of Zeon never perish. Zeon is more then just Gihren Zabi or Side Three." The line was silent at the pronouncement, at first and then the fire he knew that lurked beneath the banner of Zeon, from veterans to the novices who had watched their brothers and sisters in arms die today. They cried outward in fury echoing the words of their late Sovereign. _'Sieg Zeon, Sieg Zeon, Sieg Zeon.'_ It was inspiring and it gave him hope today, that was all that they had the moment save a duty to their new ruler. To achieve that duty however they had to escape this battle alive. He had a plan but it was mostly reliant on other factors then himself or their own relative strength, such as that tech unit actually holding out for a while longer."...I say that we concentrate in field grid 0.5 and stay out of the way of that technical unit that is drawing the Federation's fire, if they are lucky we may draw a few squads our way but otherwise they are on their own."

He heard a litany of agreement echoing assent, three Gelgoog mass production models, nine Zaku II's of varying configuration, four Dom space variants, and most surprising of all that came to the field were his two surviving squadmates-he had to fight back the smile that threatened to form upon his lips as he saw that familiar IFF signature register, instead he merely added them to the count, another Zaku and Dom would be useful here. He was surprised Yuka or Vitor had survived the destruction of the Dolowa even so he was happy to have them along. "Let this final battle for A Baoa Qu, end with us making the Federation regret ever coming here!" The Federation forces in E-Field that weren't being called in to take out the technical unit were just casually destroying the remainder of the forces that had stood in defense of this field, warships and mobile suits fell to massed assaults, it wouldn't take them long to find his collection of resistance either.

"Now...forces of Zeon! Engage!" He bellowed into his microphone implanted into his helmet as he revved his Gelgoog's throttle to full, the suit forward forward traveling at nearly three hundred kilometers a hour, at his side were fellow Gelgoogs, Doms and Zaku, they were not defenseless targets that had been drained by attack after attack. Their massed formation of mobile suits readied themselves for battle, the GM's that had gathered around a sunken Chivvay that had been decided as their rallying point noticed the incoming Zeon suits mere seconds before they were upon them. Their frantic beam rifle and machine gun fire tore into their suits even as they continued their charge, it was three to one odds in this battle but they couldn't pull back...if they did that fleet would be besieged from several other fronts even if that technical unit held its own lines. "Fire!" 120mm machine guns, 90mm machine guns, sturm fausts, 280mm bazooka's and beam rifles lit up the space between them as a volley of fire that the Federal forces had no counter too descended upon them, his own beam machine gun seemingly never ceasing its fire. Zeon suits erupted into hails of lights as beam rounds tore into reactors, Feddie suits were ripped apart by high powered explosives, or cut apart by machine gun fire-even so the return fire caused suits to erupt around him in flashes of exploding metal and components.

The battle raged for several minutes, their numbers were depleting rapidly but the Federation GM's were losing ground, having to avoid the constant barrages of rocket and beam fire by taking cover behind the corpses of what were once Zeon or Federation warships. Their fire tore into the wreckage, igniting munitions within the gutted bowels vessel as they struck missiles, torpedoes or other ammunition within the batteries. Explosions rocked the internals of what had once been a Salamis as it erupted outward however his scope noted that of the four remaining GM's that had escaped only two of which were actually returning back to the field, the others were presumably retreating. In perhaps one of the bravest sights he had ever witnessed from the Federation the twin GM's charged forward opening fire with their beam rifles as they did so, the thin penetrating bolts of light ate into the squadmate on his left as the pilot's Dom erupted into a hellfire Dieter drove straight into the fray his beam machine gun firing all the while. The GM shuddered as multiple rounds tore into it even as it continued its forward charge, its fellow however bore no ranged weapon and charged headlong into their sights with beam saber in hand. Even as he brought up his beam machine gun into position to fire he was taken aback by the sight his eyes registered within his monitor was Yuuka's Zaku II and the GM and they both seemingly had charged headlong into each other. Yet the GM was minus its primary head mounted camera and had her Zaku II's heat hawk buried to the hilt of the cockpit module within the steel coffin the mobile suit had become, the Feddie pilots own beam saber hanging limply within its hand mount only scarce feet from Yuuka's own cockpit, from the target it had sought to reach. Pulling back from the doomed weapon he heard the oddest sounds coming from the commline with his fellow squadmate.

Laughter, Yuuka was laughing-was it merely the adrenaline flooding her body or something more? Regardless within that moment, the war stopped, time stopped. In that single instance of his life, he felt contented by his duty at the Academy, this cadet, now Ensign and possibly more one day had survived this great clash at the edge of this war's conclusion. She had bloodied herself, proven herself and acclaimed him and his teachings in a way his reports alone never would. He had produced a great warrior, a soldier, the future, his future, Zeon's future. As the GM erupted into a consuming field of fire that spread outward tens of meters being snuffed out by the vacuum, Yuuka's Zaku II turned to him and in that instant as their camera's locked on to each other, he knew she understood what his prior thoughts had been.

 _'You are the future.'_ He always believed in the strength of the next generation, that they would build marvels and wonders that would make they had constructed seem pale and petty by comparison, this Cadet proved his ideal correct. Yet this couldn't continue, the war demanded his attention once more and with some mild reluctance he tore his eyes from the banks of monitors and returned his sight to the various instrument panels and screens that made up the interior of his Gelgoog. He saw nothing on the radar save their own squad's IFF's and in that moment-they had victory.

They succeeded but of the nineteen suits that had charged the Federation lines at E Field, only a paltry three remained at the end of the fierce and brief skirmish. It was both impressive and gut wrenching at the same time, yes at the end of this short engage they had in all likelihood destroyed around close thirty GM's and their support but the price was paid in the blood of these novices, of the veterans like him? There were probably less then a hundred fighting still by now, the rest? They'd either fled or had died in service to the homeland.

"You two...get the hell out of here, link up with what's left of the Fleet and tell them to divert to Granada, any one loyal to the throne should make their way there. Admiral Karn's fleet should still be position but..." His voice broke into a wheeze as he popped the seal on his helmet before ripping it aside. The safety implement floated in the zero gravity of the interior of his suit as he wiped away sweat that was dotting on his forehead, digging into his normal suit's front pocket and retrieving several of the morphine capsules he casually tossed them back. The hardened tablets slid down his dry throat roughly but he had gone hours without any sort of pain relief and he could already feel the slow piercing throb building in the back of his skull. None the less it was time to get back to what he had been talking about prior to this ' _fix_ '. "...But who knows how long that will last, once the Feddies wrap up here...they will definitely target our sole surviving operation center." His Gelgoog's camera blared a bright red as it focused on the incoming Federal force-twelve Salamis cruisers, supported by at least another thirty GM's in the squadron, and who knew what else. This force was designed to block any fleeing forces from escaping the field, their window to flee A Baoa Qu was shutting.

"Captain! We can stay-" No. He wouldn't allow it. _'This time...this time it's my turn.'_ He buried dozens of comrades throughout this war from the debris fields of Side Two and One to the dense rain forests and jungle of South America. To the fortress so similar to this one Solomon, here and now he would lose no one else.

"No! You have your job new blood and its getting as much of those ships gathered together as possible and pointing them in the right direction, we still have a heir to the throne, Zeon is not dead! We cannot allow our military to splinter and flee back to the homeland!" That was all that mattered, if he and what was left of the field could hold together long enough to allow the fleet to reroute to Granada then everything would be worth it. It was like he had told the Captain, escaping this battle with his life wasn't the goal. It was to ensure that Zeon fought to its last breath to ensure that the true heir of Side Three did not fall into the hands of the Federation, she would sit upon her grandfathers throne. He could die contented with that thought in mind, even though he did not wish to...but this was war. What he wished didn't enter into the equitation. He had to act as a commander, view the situation logically, find someway to salvage this disaster into something at least minutely positive.

If he didn't no one would. Delaz had left hours ago after all. _'Damn it Aiguille, you could have at least sounded the general retreat.'_ He understood the Captain's intent, it was the same as his own in all likelihood. The Principality of Zeon could not be allowed to perish, even if some turncoat _bootlicker_ of a Prime Minister sought to play Quisling. Even if he had to die here in this ocean of debris and wreckage, he could go to the afterlife contented. He would go to the warrior paradise contented after bathing in the blood of his foes.

"Understood...sir." The sheer reluctance in her following of his command was present as if she was agreeing to it face to face, yet all the same she acquiesced to his order. He knew she was straining against what had been ingrained in her for years with this command, to fight alongside one's comrades to the death was expected to the soldier, it was easy, but to be told to flee while the others died in your stead? That was the difficult bit...but he would offer her some incentive to follow this order.

He would offer her and himself a slimmer of hope in this the darkest hours of the Zeon state.

"I am going to give you five minutes, once that time has passed I am disengaging." Chances were he would be surrounded by enemies by then, low on energy, firepower and munitions, stranded and left to die facing a tide of foes he couldn't possibly overcome. _'Just like at Side One...'_

"Good luck sir!" Her frantic cry came into ear and her her pause before continuing. "Don't die!" He smiled at that. She would do well in whatever came after this, he knew she would survive, she had been instructed to not do so would be marked as a failure after all and she was his most promising student.

He watched the mobile suits that had fought at his side for hour after hour through this chaos depart, even now dozens of suits and ships were still trying to breach the lines and escape, at the very least he'd ensured his own squad...what was left of it had a chance to escape this bullshit alive. He noted the blips incoming on the radar, killing the private comm channel he flipped it to an open broadcast. "Now then, you wanted me? **The Black Phantom of Zeon?! The Scourge of Side One is before you Feddie dogs!"** He addressed the Federal suits rushing towards his rear as his Gelgoog banked to six o'clock facing the oncoming force, at least ten GM's made up their formation-within seconds their knock off beam weaponry would be in range, but so would his. Beam machine gun raised, targeting computer blurring as it mapped up trajectories-he'd hold them off for five minutes and then he'd make his exit if he lived that long...he didn't plan to die here, just because his goal would be complete with or without his survival didn't mean that finely honed survival instinct that had been sharpened to a razor's edge at the Academy no longer existed. The targeting computer chimed and he smashed his gloved finger into the firing stud even as he accelerated, even as dozens of heavy beam rounds fired free from his machine gun, he flew onward-the Feddies clearly hadn't expected any sort of resistance from the surviving Zeon forces and were taken aback at the blatant charge. Even as his beam shots tore into two GM's torso's, the rest opened up with their beam spray guns unleashing a volley, climbing upward to avoiding the sudden assault made him bite into his lip. _'Today was supposed to be the triumph of Zeon!'_ He scowled as he had his suit bank hard to avoid another barrage of beam rifle fire, however he felt one of the rounds make him impact with his suit's lower torso burning through the thick armoring as if it was nothing but tin, his suit registered the damage even as he brought down his beam machine gun again from his new position 'above' the incoming suits and unleashed another hail of fire.

Cockpit filling with smoke and sparks as electrical meters and instruments shorted out due to the beam round, he raised his suit's free left arm upwards and unleashed another volley from the suit's machine cannon. The heavy rounds tore into another GM, but the return fire impacted his Gelgoog across its body, striking limbs and destroying armored plating and alloy. "Four more minutes Feddies!" He exclaimed as his fired his beam machine gun once more, pressing down upon the trigger stud, he watched as the munitions charge depleted rapidly, even so the sum of fire he was unleashing outstripped the Federation reply, one after another the GM's were reduced to molten slag by the intense power of the energy. He saw the readout for his suit's condition and frowned, it wasn't holding together very well...one of the thruster's on the left leg had been destroyed, the right arm was barely operable after repeat hits, and his cockpit was losing pressurization after a glancing beam round impact to the torso.

 _'Just another three minutes, I need to pull out some more tricks.'_ He unleashed another stream of fire from his suit's left hand machine cannon until the mechanism ran out of rounds to fire, the meter within his cockpit showing it was now empty. However the result spoke plainly of the heavy rounds effectiveness, three RGM's floated lifelessly in the vacuum trailing smoke and sparks. "Now all I have is another thirty charges in the beam machine gun and the beam saber..." This defensive holding action likely would have been more effective if he didn't constantly have to screen for enemies trying to flank him or wasting precious seconds watching his scopes to avoid spray beam rifle fire from the knock off Gundam's. None the less he wouldn't be stopped here, he'd keep his promise to his surviving squadron.

He'd buy them that five minutes, he just had to live long enough to do it.

It was then of course that he noticed that during his brief second long distraction that one of the Federal pilots had acted upon it. Beam saber at the machine side it charged forward, towards him, all the while its fellows continued to pelt at his position with beam rifle fire.

"Get the hell out of my way!" He screamed through his visor as he brought the beam saber down again in a horizontal slash, the GM responded by interposing its own blade-the energy met with crackling and sparks flying as the two blades tried to overpower one another. He didn't have time to play with this Federation force any longer, E Field was collapsing, the escape route that he had been informed of was closing, Federation reinforcements were arriving from every field now. A Baoa Qu had truly fallen, there was no longer any visible fire coming from the Fortress even as it was increasingly surrounded by Federal warships. He pulled back on his suit's right leg thruster allowing it pivot backwards even as he forced his suit's backpack into forward a forward thrust, his beam saber angled straight into the GM's cockpit. While it would have been more effective had he be able to complete the maneuver with both of his mobile suit's inbuilt leg thruster units it never the less worked to his desired outcome. His technique may not be as flashy as some aces such as the Black Tri Stars had been but it was crisp and utilitarian, committing the maximum amount of striking coverage and force with the minimum amount of movement, not mention fighting this conservatively allowed the momentum of the swing to carry his machine beyond the target and towards the next one. As he passed the Federation GM, his beam saber having pierced through the cockpit and out through the other end of the torso. The dead machine just hovered in the vacuum behind for a moment before erupting into a sphere of flame. "That's right assholes." He commented to the surviving Federal force, grin forming upon torn and scarred lips."Warm up is over."

However despite his growing list of kills he still had over twenty enemy mobile suits to contend with, if he was still back in the dense and thick jungles and rain forests of Earth he might even have felt nervous at the prospect but...they weren't at Earth. He had been fighting in mobile suit combat in the vacuum space since this war had begun and he had become a expert in that craft. Rather then firing at a range with his beam machine gun and depleting its already low charge he would instead charge the enemy, keying up his Gelgoog's back thrusters into full burst his machine rocketed towards the enemy even as a fearsome and predatory grin broke out upon his lips. The line of GM's however are obviously aware of what he ends as they respond to his blatant charge with bursts of sporadic fire.

His machine twisted and danced through the storm of enemy bullets, beam and canon fire-twirling through the firestorm at his skilled commanding touch. The enemy fire was growing increasingly wilder and more panicked as he careened ever closer with every evasion and dodge, but he...he is the master of his craft and they cannot stop him. _'Two minutes.'_ He thought as his beam saber once ignited into a piercing pulsing blow that radiated in the darkness of space, the reddish beam glinted off the pitted and torn armoring of his once pristine Gelgoog. His first strike decapitates the front camera 'head' unit of the enemy GM, its shuttering frame shooting sparks and venting fluids and gas from the formerly pressurized interior. Bringing up his beam machine gun and unleashing a burst of fire that ruptures another two suits is child's play, after his charge and success at dodging that ultimately culminated in destroying their lead machine, the Federation pilots had froze leaving them easy pray for his follow up assault.

However he is now more or less surrounded by what had once been their line, over a dozen suits still remain all pointing their varied weapons at his damaged and broken machine.

"Zeon Mobile Suit! Stand down and surrender! The Republic of Zeon has issued a ceasefire!" One oddly colored blue GM commanded as it broke through the rank and file of the standard RGM-79's. Its displacement marked it as completely different from any of that mass production series he had ever seen-was thing someone finally worthy of attention? Was this one of those rare individuals in the Federation that would prove competent and actually worthy of his time? As he toggled the communication toggle accepting the open hail his breath left his body in a tired sigh. This had been a tiring and very long day but at the very least he likely now spoke to someone in command. "This is Captain Kries of the **Principality** of Zeon **Homeland Defense Force** and I do not acknowledge those orders as legitimate. Besides your forces hardly seem content to allow us to surrender anyway-but tell me this Feddie...who are you?" The voice on the end of the line sounded familar but he couldn't place it.

He had fought many Feddies during the course of this war, at Solomon and Luna, across the bounds of Earth in North America and South America he had encountered dozens if not hundreds of them. So why would this voice in particular be of any interest?

* * *

There was only silence on the end of the communication channel yet he would not let this pause go to waste as the other pilot processed what he had to say. Every second he bought gave the others more time to link up with the fleeing Zeon forces and hopefully manage to convince at least a few of their countrymen to rally to the moon for the continuation of the Principality of Zeon.

" **You**." The voice spoke again this time infinitely harder and coarser in tone.

 _That voice..._ He had not heard it for nearly a year, except in memory or dream. The voice of the single person in his life to defeat him in battle, a battle he had barely walked away with his life from. Here she was, so far away from the distant fields of wreckage and debris of Side One or Five, so far away from the two places they'd warred already, here they were now situations reversed. No longer was he the aggressor desperately trying to cleave through the Federation defenses to achieve victory, no...now he was acting in part of her, a desperate defender of all he held sacred and dear.

It was an irony to say the least.

He couldn't help it, he laughed aloud, he must have sounded insane in that instance just bellowing laughter openly to the Federation surrounded as he was by enemy suits, weapons all but drained of energy, fuel and reactor all but ready to give out. Yes he must have looked quite the sight. "Me." He agreed finally oh this was sweet, the butcher of the Typhon team, the female pilot he had engaged twice earlier in the war, oh he had thought her long dead, dead fighting against the Zeon advance on Earth like many of her comrades but she had survived and even donned a mobile suit of her, no longer restricted to the inferior frame of a fighter just as he had cast off that avenue of weaponry years before.

"Lieutenant Meryl O'Sullivan." He voiced his appreciation of her reappearance.

" _Captain_ **Kries**...you survive." Her tone was one of unadulterated shock, he supposed he couldn't blame her, last she had saw of him his mobile suit had been in multiple flaming pieces. Even he wasn't quite sure how he'd survived long enough to be dragged back to Granada and patched up. Yet all the same he had survived since their final encounter at Side One, survived and even thrived, and returned to his preordained task of slaughtering the Federation whenever and however he could.

"I do." He agreed.

Silence dominated the once violent and explosive battescape.

"Been a long while since Side One." He remarked nearly a year since this last battle, a battle he had lost even if it was due to his own overconfidence. Yet all the same he had survived, and clearly she was taken aback by that revelation, yes the drifting wreck of his Zaku had been picked up by Zeon Gattle at the edge of Side One's colonial territory, apparently the IFF was deactivated and the only reason it had been dedicated at all was due to the low power emissions emitting from its frame. No doubt its own fusion reactor still desperately clinging to life, like his own body.

"How many died in the explosion?" He questioned aloud, that was one thing he never found out, one thing the Federation never officially reported on at least, the military base at Side One no doubt had been destroyed either by the overloading reactors or conventional high explosives...either way, he was curious. Besides he wanted to rub in not only his survival but Zeon's success.

She did not respond to his bait.

"You won't stand down?" The question hung in the air, if he refused no doubt they'd shoot his suit down, yet all the same he had bought the time he needed for the others to depart to fleeing Zeon forces, his presence here was no longer required. If anything the arrival of O'Sullivan merely reinforced that A Baoa Qu was lost. Zeon had fallen here, and the Zabi regime was toppled, and replaced abruptly with those all to eager to bow down to the Federation as they arrived.

He responded by gripping his still free floating helmet and resealing it along with its clasps atop his scarred head.

No he wouldn't surrender and it seemed fitting that to date one of only three pilots that had defeated him in combat saw action against him in the finale of this war.

"No, I am not going to surrender." He answered in a chilled tone, he still maintained the same outlook on that, he'd certainly die before he saw Federal _justice_. His beam machine gun which had been at the mobile suit's side was raised, his hands working the sticks as he forced his suit to ascend, his eyes scanning the monitors as the Federation suits fired upwards at him apparently taken aback by his refusal and then sudden flight. He fired downward into their ranks but given the scarce ammunition he had left to him, he couldn't hope to engage all of his enemies here, yet despite that handicap two mass production GM's went down in flames as the smattering of beam rounds struck into their torsos, whatever else could be said for this weapon...it was insanely accurate.

He smiled bitterly at that, Emre would have loved this gun.

Return beam fire ate into his suit, his main camera was knocked back as part it's track was blasted away along with critical power feeds, causing it short and spew static across the boards and monitors. Molten metal and slag blasted away from his suit in streams of vapor. _'Lucky shot'_ he groused internally but all the same it was an indicator he had to get away and while he hated to just turn his tail and run but...he had to disengage. "Sorry Lieutenant but I will have to catch up with you later, I'm afraid I have a ship to catch." He offered glibly as his machine turned about just as his primary rear thrusters ignited propelling perhaps the fastest mobile suit Zeon had ever constructed during the war along, the stark trail of blue flame that followed his wake drowned out all the scarce return fire offered by the Federation, all of them were apparently content to let him get away, after all only the female had any indicator of just who or what he was, no doubt the majority of the Federation still thought him dead and rotting out at Side One.

 _'That will be a problem...'_ If the war earnestly and truly ended no doubt his survival would brand him a war criminal, someone to be hunted and pursued. The Federation had made no secret of its intention, they wanted those who had gassed colonies, those who had destroyed cities, across Earth captured alive if possible, to stand trial, to face their justice in courtrooms, and promptly be led to firing squads. All in order to mock Zeon, no he wouldn't discredit, wouldn't defame his own name in such a fashion, he would never be a prisoner. Beam fire flew past his mobile suit causing him to tilt slightly into a bank to allow his rear camera to eye the area of space, the sight wasn't a surprise once more O'Sullivan was pursuing him though unlike their prior meeting he didn't have time to play with her.

Avenging his long dead comrades would have been a satisfying thing but...he could put aside the dead and their vengeance for the sake of his overall ambition to see Mineva ascend the throne, that was what mattered now. His own personal grievances would come later. His suit however seemed to rapidly be outpacing the GM and this was no surprise to him, while those mass production _White Devils_ were strong and swift they simply weren't up to the standards of quality and standard that Zeon suits were held to, that much was certain and apart from its customized paint job, the blue GM seemed little different from all those it led into battle. Tilting his suit upward into a roll, he angled his beam machine gun outward and fired back at the Feddie, the piercingly accurate beam rounds did not find their mark but it did force the persistent woman to divert course or die.

All he had to do was slow her down long enough to reach the Zeon fleet that was departing A Baoa Qu, if he could link up with that then they would undoubtedly have enough firepower to punch through whatever got in their way in route to Granada...this situation could be reversed, it had to be reversed. For Zeon to live under the banner of the Federation? It was unthinkable.

* * *

 **January 1st 0080**

 **Space Fortress A Baoa Qu**

 **Zeon Outer Perimeter**

 **E-Field**

 **0100 Hours**

 **MS-14Jg,**

"Hailing Zeon Fleet this is unit **DK-MS/14-JG** I repeat this is unit **DK-MS/14-JG** , transmitting IFF, be aware the Federation is not pursuing in earnest but I may have company arriving along with me if I cannot shake them off. If you can render assistance it would be appreciated...Sieg Zeon, Captain Kries out." Really this situation had just gone from bad to worse since he had disengaged, not only had O' Sullivan apparently recalled her entire squad to aid in his pursuit but she had also managed to score to his eye an improbably luck shot on the rear of his suit striking one of the auxiliary fuel tanks that lined the back, he had managed to avoid death on that given he had ejected the tank before impact but still...

That stunt had cost him valuable fuel, but even more then that valuable speed, he had to recover from it and in doing so had to slow even if ever so slightly in order to correct course and resume his proper flight path after the momentum of the explosion veered him off course. Which of course gave that harpy even more time to lay into his back with her beam spray gun, though thankfully none after the first had even struck within a mile of him, all the same it was too close for comfort, far too close. If only he still had machine cannon rounds left or anything besides the half dozen shots left in the beam machine gun and his effective if very limited in range hardpoint vulcans and he might have even taken his chances but no, while he had damaged the enemy squad it still would have been a five to one battle and even he wasn't foolhardy to charge five enemy machines armed with beam weaponry, pieces of inaccurate garbage they may have been.

He could always close to melee but that then leaves the chance of him being pegged as he reversed course and brought the Gelgoog around to charge...he could maybe hope to trick them into overshooting by killing his engines but they would have a free reign of taking pot shots until they passed over. Despite his years of piloting mobile suits, despite months of fighting against the Federation, hundreds if not thousands of bodies to his credit...he had no ideas for how he was going to overcome this save simply by outrunning it and getting within the range of the fleet's main guns and hoping that they'd gotten his message and were expecting hostiles.

If they could bring the firepower of several Musai and mobile suits together then this ragtag squad of hangerson wouldn't prove overly difficult to deal with. No, the bulk of the Federation force had broken the Zeon military here but they were still concentrating themselves deeper into the former Zeon controlled Fields and were securing the Forces, he would be the one expecting aid here...not O'Sullivan and her squad and she undoubtedly knew that, hence why she was letting off controlled bursts of beam fire to strike at him even as he continually extended his lead. While her pot shot to his fuel tank may have bought her time to close the gap a bit, his suit was still outpacing her's, his only real concern was another lucky shot pegging him. While his suit had held together marvelously so far, despite all the damage done to it, he knew it was in a fragile state at the moment, one more good hit and it may just break up.

Its structural integrity was questionable at present and he already knew it. Not to mention he was no longer quite as quick and nimble as he had been once he had lost one of the leg mounted thruster modules, that forced him to make continual minute corrections to course or risk veering off target due to uneven veriner fire. It was a headache plain and simple. Yet all the same the passing Zeon fleet would still be within visual range, perhaps another five minutes at most and then they'd be in position to bombard the suits tailing him, he was already beginning to make out the varying IFF signatures of the surviving naval forces, he didn't know if this task force was all that remained of their navy that had yet to surrender or if this was merely a fraction of what had escaped through E-Field due to the actions of the Zeon rearguard and that tech team, either way it would be a welcome addition of big guns on his side rather then the enemies.

A quick skim through the weapon power display, one of many gauges that marked the console to ensure link between his suit and its various weaponry still read green. With a simple button press, the now rapidly becoming familiar 'hilt' of the beam saber slid comfortably into the free if damaged right hand of the Gelgoog. If the Federation noted his suit freeing the melee weapon, their volume of fire didn't indicate it, it was still frantic and panicked. The female he understood to some degree, she was driven by hated, hatred of Zeon and its people, she had fought against them since the beginning but something within his gut told him that wasn't the case for many of the pilots within those suits.

Grinning he eased off the throttle if ever so slightly decreasing his suit's speed as it eased into a less harried flight from the fallen fortress of A Baoa Qu. He had to get ready after all. Within but a few minutes this situation would be reversed and he'd be remiss if he didn't give his old acquaintance from Side One the send off she deserved.

* * *

The upcoming tide of Zeon warships seemed to give the Federation pause as they witnessed the fleeing fleet, roughly a dozen Musai and Chivvay not to mention what appeared to be a damaged cargo hauler and an assortment of other support ships, shuttles and fighters made up the stream of vessels breaking from the titanic battle at A Baoa Qu. It was if he could feel their fear even across the vacuum of space, even from this distance it brought him not end of enjoyment to imagine the look upon that woman's face. What would it look like he wondered, clouded with absolute terror, despair? Running his tongue along the underside of his teeth he raised his hand once more to the communication array before sending off the message he knew would doom the Federal pursuit team.

"Zeon Fleet this is unit DK-MS/14-JG, repeating prior transmission for aid...still being hassled by pursuing Federal forces, I would be obliged if you could assist, over." He was now once more firmly in control of this exchange and undoubtedly the Federation had picked upon his transmission, and no doubt they'd hear its reply. "Captain! This Senior Technical Officer Helias, acting as replacement for Captain Grigor of the _Misiones_. It was easy enough to pick out the responder, the Musai was barely holding together much of its aft section was exposed to the vacuum from what appeared to have been a near miss on the ship's fusion reactor, smoke and flame drifted the vented hull. Yet all the same the ship was still space worthy if only just and only fit to limp away from the battle that saw numerous members of its fellows destroyed outright. "We managed to pick up your prior transmission sure but M particle interference prevented us from confirming, we have an incoming squadron to render assistance." It was...an uplifting feel in that instance that despite the carnage wreaked upon them, the first ship among the throngs that were fleeing the field was one that sported the most obvious battle damage, one that had obviously been in the thick of the hours long struggle that culiminated in the fall of the final Zeon Space Fortress on the outer bounds of Side Three.

"Copy that." He signed off agreeably as he began to stall his suit's thrusters down to a crawl, his rear camera was depicting the entire story that was spreading across the Federal ranks, they expected to pursue a lone war criminal, a fleeing pilot in a damaged machine halfway into the grave already.

Instead they had encountered a retreating task force that it would take an entire wing of their fleet down, and they knew it.

Killing all thrust he turned the damaged if still might Gelgoog about to face the incoming enemy, surprisingly they were still pursuing. _'She commands loyalty if not sense.'_ He internally reasoned as he once more had his Gelgoog accelerate, now towards the incoming enemy suits just as the overlaying fire of the Zeon fleet and incoming mobile suit relief forces slammed into them, avoiding the friendly fire was surprisingly difficult given that the conventional shells, beam rounds, and rockets were aimed on point, at targets that were just before him, more then once he had to break off course to avoid a rocket to the back or worse. Yet even so as the incoming Rick Doms, Zaku and Gattle began to harry the enemy, he was able to pick out that Blue GM amid the chaos of the ensuing battle relatively easy. There she was, trying to rally her forces to either disengage or retaliate, but both options would be denied to her shortly.

Eyeing the scene skeptically, he can tell she won't last much longer even if he doesn't intervene already her squad is being pressed inward, units are being battered and torn by explosives and beam fire, soon they will begin to die...soon she will would die. _'No...no this one is mine.'_ That thought resolute in mind he prepares his little trap just lying in await for the proper moment. She will overextend, leave herself open, he knows she will. As she had her GM pull back one of its badly damaged fellows, having to occupy its secondary, hand he knows his moment to strike has come, her attention diverted. Accelerating violently downward, beam saber poised at the ready, he would gut her suit and finally be free of that one who had landed him his first defeat in this war, the one who had killed what was left of Typhon out at the outskirts of Side One and nearly killed him.

She's unaware, he knows it, soon...soon this will end and he can return to the fleet free of a burden that has tormented him for nearly a year.

Yellow energy saber pointed downward ready to impale the unlucky suit, his hands steady at the controls, his breathing controlled and even yet all the same he feels a tremor of excitement creep into his blood.

He was born to do this.

To be a warrior of the Duchy of Zeon, to send Feddies into their graves in the name of that cause and oath.

" **Die**." He whispered his command to the enemy, his prayer for victory, his hope for retribution.

She barely had the time to react as he sprung his ambush, he can tell. Her machine violently veering to the side in a gut-punching high-g maneuver, secondary veriners burning as bright as they can to avoid the lunge before his suit roars past, lunging at the spot where she had been not a split second before.

"Damnit!" He cursed, his grin instantly breaking into a scowl as he recovers from the lunge to interpose his beam saber between it and the enemies which comes sailing towards him retaliation. _'Good reflexes...'_ He conceded, he had scarcely passed her a few heartbeats ago, he had spared just enough time to reverse course and turn about and she had already switched over to her primary melee tool. As the two I-Field wrapped masses of particles battled against one another he activated his surviving leg thruster to give he more leverage, more speed, more momentum, he could see the strain being imposed upon the GM by blocking the downward coming blade. Yet if she moved to disengage, if she let the blade free, he'd kill, he knew it, she knew it.

Yet all the same...this stalemate gave neither of them any advantage and both knew it.

Withdrawing his beam saber back from the lock and freeing O'Sullivan's nets him only a mere second of surprise but he aims to take advantage of it.

The blade of his own beam saber and the GM's meet with crash after crash of intense flashes of light as the magnetic containment fields of the two weapons push against each other, straining and grinding as molten dust and other grime and debris from the battlefield immolates itself with every connecting swing. Almost in unison, the pair of them heave off of each other, sending collective multi-ton war machines flying apart, only to close again in a burst of thrusters. He's slightly faster but her mobile suit thus far isn't damaged, that is a problem he seeks to fix with this next charge.

 **This time, This time.** He silently promises himself as he closed the distance, the Federation pilot lashed out brutally, a strike that was low and fast designed to simply bisect the Gelgoog with her beam saber. Yet despite the speed and fury of the assault he managed to maneuver out of the way with a jet of veriner and activating his still working leg booster. Yet before he could allow the Feddie pilot to recover from missing and overextending herself, he strikes. Taking advantage of the sudden opening. He drives the Gelgoog to the side with a fierce bluish blaze of thrusters and rushes in to strike at the mass production Gundam knock off's exposed back.

She is aware of the coming death and tries to parry it, bringing her own blade around but it is far too late. His own blade cuts deep into the Feddie machine. bursting through the armored shoulder of the mobile suit, its metal burning white-hot where his blade carved through and severed one of it's limbs from the torso. Yet the blade arm remained and quickly interposed her own with a rapid use of vernier's once more placing them again in a stalemate, yet he could smell blood in the water. He had already wounded the prey, her options were limited, her suit damaged.

All she could do was hold still and that was how their duel was unfortunately once more called short. This time not by mechanical failure or damage done to his suit that sent him veering off course into wreckage to barely escape his life no but all the same. The actions of his allies had won the day.

 **"Orders sir?...We have clear lines on the enemy suit."** One of the Zeon pilot's broke into the concentration he held himself in during battle and he knew then and there that this skirmish was over with that communication. He glanced at the timer on his reactor and the overall mission time and let out a tired breath that he had seemingly held for an age. Even if they let him have this mock duel to humor him given he had all but already won, they simply didn't have the time to spare for a clean fight any longer, the Federation was occupied for now but who knew how long that would hold, no they were holding up the fleet with this nonsense and it was time to call it to a close.

As the drifting wreckage of the other mobile suits that once made up the proud Blue GM's squadron swam by in the darkness of the void he couldn't help but take some solace in the fact that now she was denied her squad mates as well. He could only hope their loses hurt, but as a half dozen rocket launchers, machine guns and beam rifles were leveled in her direction, the Feddie had no choice but submit. He had thought about this day ever since January 28th, every day since **Black Light.**..the moment where he'd take revenge, where he'd overcome that blonde bitch and kill her in glorious battle. Yet here she was, her suit damaged and torn, drifting, locked into the sights of a squad of Zeon killers that had just ripped apart her squad and made the only survivor the woman herself. Deactivating the blade of his beam saber yet keeping the weapon angled squarely at the cockpit he keyed the commline.

"You are outmatched, kill the power and surrender." Silence held for a moment before she complied without a word, the main camera mount on the damaged custom GM flickered off without protest. Thus came the second demand, if he was to decide her fate, he'd to face to face, eye to eye, he wouldn't kill such a potent enemy without looking her eye in the to do it.

"Open the hatch. Now. " He commanded, whether he simply wanted to look her in the eye as he killed her or for some other reason, no one there knew save him, yet as he opened his own hatch in reply, the circular portal gave a insight into just how damaged his Gelgoog was as smoke drifted out rapidly as the chamber lost what let compression it had once the hatch cycled and vent the cockpit.

Undoing the restraints and gripping the roof of the chamber as he pulled himself outward he looked inward upon the pilot there within.

She did not look as if she had changed much in the eleven months since they had last met, but that was no surprise, it hadn't even been a year yet and much of her features were concealed by the normal suit and helmet. None the less as he had his Gelgoog extend outward its free left arm, having stored the beam machine gun upon its lower arms rack, he stepped across the elongated limb spanning the dark void separating them.

As their eyes met for the second time he couldn't help but grin. A gesture all to obvious through the clear glass of his helmet and one that immediately turned her already frustrated mood further sour.

"Seems our situations have reversed haven't they?" He stated rather cheerfully as his service pistol was removed from its holster upon his normal suit and leveled squarely at her helmeted forehead. One simple pull of a trigger and she'd be sent screaming into the void courtesy of one of the 9x19 slugs within the magazine yet at the prospect of this he stilled.

"Bite me Zeke." She spat back fuming.

Stubborn. He expected as much, no this one wouldn't die with grace or dignity or any of that other worthless chivalrous crap. He approved of the attitude if not the fact it was directed at himself. Holstering his pistol, he had an idea and the mere premise of the notion within his skull caused his grin to widen further revealing white teeth.

Oh this would make the trip to Granada all the more pleasant, why content her with such an easy fate...such a transient fate, death it seems came far to cheap for his tastes. One swipe of his blade, one pull of a trigger and this woman that had robbed so much from him would be free of that debt. No she would not earn such an easy fate, she did not deserve it.

He didn't miss how she shivered under his gaze, he didn't miss how her eyes bore pure unadulterated outrage at the mere prospect of this scenario yet all the same this was what was happening. Under the guns of half a dozen mobile suits, her own squad dead, her own army too busy securing the fortress it had just captured and dealing with any leftover resistance to pay any little skirmish on the edge of the field much heed.

Yes she was at his mercy, and just like her at Side One, now he would get to dictate her fate.

 **"Welcome to your new life as a prisoner of war...Lieutenant."** Even amid the ashes of Zeon's greatest defeat, triumph was still found among that battlefield.

Victory still salvaged. It didn't matter to him that he technically hadn't overcome her, it didn't matter then and there in that instance that peace talks were likely to be conducted within days at the latest even if they secured the infant would be Sovereign of Side Three, it did not matter as the whispers of the pain that plagued him during his waking hours since his prior defeat crept into his awareness. All that mattered then and there was the victory that he had sought for so long finally coming to him.

After all even a defeat is merely an interlude to glory.

 **END**

* * *

 **AN: Well as this first one shot after The Soldier of Zeon concludes I do hope you have enjoyed yourself, if you did please think about leaving a review maybe or favoriting the fic if you'd ever like to maybe read it again. No rambling author's note this time I am afraid save the promise that this will not be the end of this series.**

 **You will get more and more of these one shots as we near the unveiling of the sequel, which I can proudly say is coming along rather nicely. I do hope to have it up sometime in January if not February at the latest. I haven't really decided just how long I want the sequel but expect a fic of at the very least The Soldier of Zeon's length if not longer. Just think of these side stories as little intermissions or something I guess, something to wet the appetite of the folks enjoy my writing for some reason.**

 **Anyway Merry Christmas everyone!**

 **I shall return in the New Year!**


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